


Thank You For Saving The World

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Case Fic, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dean Winchester Has Nightmares, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), No Slash, POV Second Person, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Reader-Insert, Season/Series 10, Stanford University, Team Free Will (Supernatural), at least i hope so, reader joins team free will, she just kinda becomes a little sister by the end, y'all get the idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24407518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: THEN: four years ago, the Winchesters saved you from the vampire nest that killed your family.After opening your eyes to the things that go bump in the night, they left you to pick up the pieces of your shattered reality.NOW: you're a grown up; you got into college and re-built your life. Everything is going well... until it isn't.When incidents tragically similar to yours start popping up in your new town , you find yourself glad you never lost the brothers' number.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) & You, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & You, Sam Winchester & You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This is my first published story, as well as my first time writing in english.  
> There are probably going to be some mistakes, so please bear with me.  
> If you find errors, I'd appreciate you pointing them out to me.
> 
> Set sometime in season 10. It's after "Fan Fiction", but before Cas gets his grace back.

Your heart skips a beat as you read the article on your phone.  
Mysterious deaths all over Palo Alto, whole families drained of their blood; they had nothing in common but their terrible fate. The firstborns, all in their twenties, are missing, and there are no signs of a break in.

Flashbacks of your own tragedy start popping up in your head, and you can almost smell the blood of your parents.  
You take a deep breath, trying to focus on your surroundings to fight back the panic attack you can feel coming.  
After collecting yourself, you think of what to do.  
Maybe you're just being paranoid, and there's nothing unnatural going on; but maybe, just maybe, it's happening all over again. Maybe your dream life is turning into your worst nightmare.

You quickly close the news and go to your contacts.  
Your fingers shaking, you finally find what you're looking for: Sam Winchester.  
The phone rings and rings until it goes to voice mail:  
 _"Sam can't talk right now, cause he's waxing... like, everything."_  
" _What are you doing with my phone? Dean, come on_!"  
You can't help but chuckle, deciding to try again, and this time he picks up.  
"Hello? Who's this?" asks Sam, his voice sounds tired and deep.  
"Uhm... ehy, it's Y/N... we met a few years ago in Liberty, Texas..."  
"Oh yeah! Hold on, I'll put on speakerphone." -- "Cas, Dean. Quit doing whatever the hell it is you do when I'm not around and come here!" he yells at his brother and waits for him to arrive.  
"So, Y/N, I'm guessing you aren't just calling us to thank us, so what's going on?" Dean goes straight to the point.

You tell them what happened and send them the link, secretly hoping they'd tell you that there is no case and you're making it all up, but instead they tell you to be careful and promise they'll be there by morning.  
As you lay in your bed, waiting for your roommate to come back, it feels like the sun will never come up.  
You try sleeping, but give up as soon the nightmares you thought had left you for good start making their way in your head again, and decide to listen to some music.  
It won't make you look rested tomorrow, but it does help take your mind off things.  
And by " _things_ ", I mean a vampire nest possibly killing innocents just a few minutes away from your dorm.

It feels like the sun will never come up, but eventually, it does.  
You cast a glance over at your roommate's bed, but it doesn't look like anybody slept in it.  
You tell yourself that Chris is probably sleeping in her girlfriend's room, and decide to take a shower and wait for your favorite brothers to finally arrive: _there's no way you're going to class today._

As soon as you get back to your room, someone knocks on your door.  
You tell them to hold for a minute, while quickly putting on the first things that you come across.  
Once you open the door, three men appear in front of you.  
They look different than the last time you saw them: Sam's hair is shorter, he has somewhat of a beard and is clearly a bit older, though still ridiculously tall; Dean looks like he hasn't aged a day since you last saw him, his hair still short and light brown, and his eyes as beautiful as you remember them.  
They both fit perfectly into the FBI suits they put on.

You stop admiring the two gorgeous men, and focus on the third one, whom you don't recognize.  
He's a bit shorter than the two brothers, his black hair in contrast with his deep blue eyes.  
He's wearing a trench coat that looks a size too big, over a blue suit and white shirt, and he's studying you.  
"Hi, Y/N, good to see you again." Says Dean, as you let them in.  
He gives you a quick hug and starts exploring your room.  
"Looks like you're really doing good." states Sam, following his brother inside.  
You simply nod, telling them it's nice to see them as well, and then your eyes are once again attracted to the stranger, who's busy trying to send a text.  
They notice your staring, then Dean chuckles and points at the man.  
"He's Cas, an old friend of ours. He usually comes with us if there's nothing else big going on."  
You remember them mentioning him once or twice, referring to him as their best friend.  
 _And as angel_ , you also realize.  
 _Is there a fucking angel in you room?_

Cas comes closer and gives you a handshake, which you respond to just a couple seconds too late.  
 _Do not ask the guy if he's an angel_ \- you think to yourself.  
 _It sucks as a pickup line and it's even worse if you mean it literally._  
You decide you're going to drop it for the time being, and focus your attention back on the boys.  
"So how have you been?" asks Sam.  
"Pretty well, actually. It took me a while to get back on my feet, but knowing I wasn't crazy helped me get my shit together. Eventually I finished high school and went as far away from that town as I could. I'm in my second year here at Stanford, studying law."  
Sam tilts his head a bit, when you mention your studies, a sad expression shadows his face for a while, but it's gone so fast you think maybe you imagined it.  
Dean looks at his brother, maybe waiting for a reaction, and then looks at you.  
"That's really awesome. It's not often that we get to see how the people we help are doing. We're sorry something brought us back here. What can you tell us about what's going on?"  
"Not a lot, actually. All I know, I read about on the news paper. Families being... killed. I wasn't even sure it was worth calling you but... it looked an awful lot like what happened to my family. It's probably nothing though, right?"  
You hope they're going to reassure you, but the three just share a look, before Sam asks:  
"It's too soon to know. We were going to check out the crime scenes, and then head to our motel to see if anything like this ever happened before here. Is there anything else you think it's important?"  
"Not really, just... keep me in the loop and let me know if I can help you in any way.  
It was good to see y'all again, and it was great meeting you... _Cas_."  
You walk them to the door, and observe them walking away, showing their (fake) badges to the dorm guard that approaches them.  
You let out a small laugh and shake your head, suddenly feeling safer at the thought of them being there with you.

**\--**

You spend the day watching movies and failing at your attempts to study.  
At nine pm, the Winchesters still haven't texted you and your roommate still hasn't come back.  
When you notice that she hasn't answered any of your texts, you decide you're officially worried.  
You try calling her again, then shoot a text to her girlfriend, who tells you she hasn't seen her since late last night.  
Finally realizing something is very wrong, you leave Dean a voicemail letting him know your whereabouts, and decide to go look for her, despite the fear that's eating you up alive.  
As you put your shoes on, you contemplate going to the police, but quickly realize that she hasn't been missing for enough time and that it's not rare for college kids to disappear or drop out. Given her reckless history, you know know no one is going to listen to you.

As you walk through the dorm, you relax a little, comforted by the smells and sounds you're so accustomed to. You ask around if anyone has seen Chris, but no one has, and you feel like you're out of options.  
Just as you're about to give up, you receive a text from her number:  
 _"Hey. Sorry i didn't get back 2 u. Meet me outside in 5, I got smth 2 show u."_  
You roll your eyes at her ridiculous typing shortcuts, and then walk outside.  
The cold air gives your naked arms goose bumps, while you try to localize your friend, still not seeing her.  
" _Behind the trees_." - She sends you an other message.  
That's weird, you admit, but then again: so is Chris.

You start walking towards the trees, and think you see a shadow rushing to the opposing direction; still, you tell yourself you're just seeing things.  
As you get closer, you notice Chris's pink shoe coming out from a tree and decide she's probably sitting on the ground, getting her clothes dirty. At this point, you assume she got too drunk last night and is still dealing with the hangover.  
"What the hell have you been -" You start saying, as you turn the corner, but stop immediately.  
That's when you see _her_ : your best friend in the entire world, lying on the ground, her lips blue and her skin too pale.  
You don't even try calling out her name, the two holes on her neck enough to tell you all you need to know.  
You'd expect to feel sad, and you do, but all you can really feel right now is anger.

You feel tears running down your cheeks when you reach to close her eyes, and that's when an other text comes to your phone:  
" _Just getting started_."  
A sob escapes your lips, then you take a second to collect yourself.  
"I'm so sorry." You whisper, grabbing her hand.

Finally you get up, calling Sam's phone once again, and this time he picks up.  
"Hey, what's up?" he asks, but you don't really hear him, your eyes still locked on Chris's bloody neck.  
"I need you to pick me up. Please."  
You don't give him time to answer, before hanging up and calling 911.

You sit down on your dorm's steps, tears are still running down your face when the Impala parks in front of you.  
You get up, ignoring the brothers' efforts to ask you what happened, and just shake your head, promising to tell them everything soon.  
"Just... just get me out of here. _Please_." - you say, and that's exactly what they do.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to the motel is short and silent.  
You make yourself small against the car's leather seats, ignoring the Winchesters sneaking looks at you from the review mirror.

You're aware you're going to have to confront them eventually, tell them the truth and let them help you once again, but not right now.  
Not with Chris's dead eyes still so fresh in your memory, not with the overwhelming feeling that all of this is your fault taking your breath away; you can't talk about it right now, because talking about it would make it real, and you're too scared to face that reality.

Chris was more than just your best friend.  
When two years ago you arrived at Stanford, you had no one. The foster family you had been staying with wanted nothing more than to get rid of you, your old friends had all moved on with their lives, and the death of your parents was still too fresh for you to allow yourself to make new ones.  
For the first months, you kept to yourself, scaring people away with your terrible attitude; but all of that was bound to change when Chris made her way into your life, claiming half of your room and doing all she could to break down your walls and be your friend.  
You eventually opened up to her, and it finally felt like you could live again  
For over a year and a half, you'd helped each other through everything. She was the most stable thing in your life, and losing her felt an awful lot like losing your family all over again.

The impala comes to a stop, finally forcing your mind to stop racing.  
You take a deep breath and get out of the car, watching the two boys do the same.  
Without saying a word, Dean takes off his jacket and hands it to you.   
You cast him a questioning look, but he just shrugs his shoulder:  
"You're freezing, kiddo."  
You nod, and smile, murmuring a "thanks, Dean", and accept his offer.

Once Sam is out of the car as well, you all go to their room.  
"We can rent an other for you, if you want privacy." Says Sam, observing as you scan the room with your eyes.

The first thing you notice are the duffel begs sitting in front of their beds, then the salt on the windows, and then the guns on the table.  
It smells like smoke, booze, and cheap soap, with a side of what you can only assume is fast food take away.   
"I'd rather stay with you, if that's okay... --"   
"But I get it if you wanna be alone, to research or whatever, I'll just..."  
"We'd love to have you here." Sam puts a stop to your rambling, smiling at you.  
You nod again, feeling a little of the tension leaving your body.

As you sit on one of the chairs, you can sense their curiosity.   
They already figured out something happened, but they are set on respecting your privacy and you love them just a little more for it.  
Collecting yourself, you finally start talking.

"I got a text from my roommate" - you begin, and their eyes are on you immediately.  
Tears start running down your face again as you tell the story, but you quickly wipe them away.  
You avoid looking at them, scared of the pity you're sure you're going to find in their eyes.  
You don't need pity, or sympathy. You just need the son of a bitch who hurt your friend to _lose his fucking head_.

"...and then I called 911. I didn't get a clear look at them, but I'm sure someone sprinted away just before I got to her." you finish, while finally gathering the courage to look up at them.  
You're surprised when neither of them is looking at you with compassion, and you straighten up your posture with a new found sense of confidence when you see the determined look on their faces.  
"We're really sorry, Y/N. No one should have to go through that." Sam offers.  
"We're gonna gank the son of a bitch, I swear." Dean promises, jaw clenched as he opens an other beer.

"We have to assume this is related to what happened years ago. Maybe we missed something, maybe someone got away that we didn't know about." - the younger brother opens his computer and starts typing something.  
"I guess, but even if that's the case... why wait so long? They've had plenty of time and occasions to get revenge. And why would they go after her anyways, we're the ones that killed them." - Dean had a confused expression on his face, and it would have almost been funny, hadn't he been confused by the people who were trying to kill you.

_Yeah, fucking hilarious._

"But I made it out alive. And you only got them because you heard me talking about someone standing in front of my house. It makes sense they'd be pissed at me." You offer, massaging your temples in a failed attempt at relieving your headache.  
And it does: if it weren't for your owl sleeping habits that allowed you to notice the strange man spending night after night staring at your house, the Winchesters would have never known where to look next, and you would have been just the next victim. 

"Who would it be though? We chopped the head off every single vampire in that room, and then burned them just to make sure. Unless... " Dean trailed off, as the realization hit him.  
"Unless, there were more. We always assumed they turned the older brother after killing the family" - you flinch, and he shoots you an apologetic look - "But what if that's not the case? What if...?"  
"What if that's their first feed." concludes Sam.  
"Where are you going with this?" you ask, though you know the answer already.  
He doesn't say anything, but the way he's avoiding your eyes is all the confirmation you need.  
"My brother's _dead_." but that justification sounds weak even to you.  
  


_What even is death, in a world where escaping it is so terribly easy?_

"That's what we thought too, but if he'd been turned already, there'd be no way for us to know"  
Dean must notice the color leaving your cheeks, because he chimes in, trying to reassure you.  
"We don't know anything for sure. Not yet, anyway. Let's not jump to conclusions."

You nod once, slowly, before excusing yourself and going to the bathroom.  
You barely make to the toilet, before throwing everything up.  
You want to be strong, you really do, but _damn it_ , how are you supposed to that?  
When the world keeps laughing at your life, one fucking tragedy after the other, how are supposed to just power through that?  
You hear the brothers talking, but can't bring yourself to care what about.  
When you emerge from the bathroom half an hour later, Dean is snoring on the bed closer to the door, while Sam sits at the desk, laptop still open in front of him.

"Where's Cas?" you ask, to announce your presence and avoid the awkward silence.  
"He had... a personal emergency. Should be back by tomorrow morning." he looks at you for a second, before returning his attention to the computer.  
Unsure of what to do, and far to worn out to ask for any clarification, you stand there for a couple minutes.  
"You can, uhm, take my bed. I'm not going to sleep anyway, and there's really nothing we can do before we know more. Get some shuteye, and we'll figure it all out tomorrow."  
Once again you nod, and thank him. Seems like that's all you do now days.  
You kick off your shoes and get under the raspy covers, when you hear Sam's voice just as you're about to doze off.  
" _We really will figure it out, Y/N. That much I can promise._ "  
You don't know if it's your exhaustion or the determination in his tone, but you really believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate almost everything about this chapter, but it had to be written.  
> After editing it a thousand times, I figured I'd just post it and hope y'all stick around despite it being all sorts of bad.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time you wake up, you have no idea what time it is.  
It takes you a few seconds to realize where you are, and any sadness that comes with the memories of what happened the day before is replaced by panic when you hear the screams coming from the bed next to yours. 

"SAM! SAMMY!" Dean is screaming like his life depends on it, and you instantly jump out of bed.

_What the fuck is going on now?_

Once your eyes get used to the darkness in the room, you finally understand.   
As that understanding comes, your heart breaks a little.  
Dean is lying on his bed, right fist clenched so tight his hand is growing white.  
He kicked off the covers and the muscles of his face are so constricted, his eyes shut so forcefully, you wonder how he's not waking up from that pain alone.

Unsure of what to do, and powerless as the man you admire so much keeps calling out his brother's name, you get closer to the bed, wondering where the hell Sam has disappeared to.  
That's when he comes rushing into the room, coke in one hand and gun in the other.  
As soon as he sees what's going on, he drops them both and races at the feet of his brother's bed, without so much as acknowledging your presence.  
You can't really blame him.

You step back, observing as the younger man pins his brothers hands to the bad, preventing what was probably going to be a very violent reaction.

"No! No, Sam... out! _Please_..." he keeps on saying, his voice lower but still terrified, and his brother's name sounds like a mantra through the worst nightmare you've ever witnessed.

"I'm here, Dean. Man, you gotta wake up now, okay? I'm here. You're okay, _I got you_." - Sam's tone is the complete opposite, calm and collected, even comforting.   
The way his words leave his mouth, you know he means every last one of them.  
When you see the worn out look on his face, you realize this is not the first time he's had to do this.

Dean slowly relaxes, the tension abandoning his handsome features and leaving behind an expression so terrified, you can't bring yourself to associate it with the fearless hunter that saved your life all those years ago; or the determined warrior that promised he'd get you the justice you deserved just a few hours earlier.

"Sammy?" he asks finally, eyes just a little bit open, and his little brother frees his arms and sets a firm hand on his shoulder.  
"Yeah, Dean, it's me. You okay? That was a bad one." the intensity he's looking at his brother with moves something in you, and you suddenly feel like you don't belong in that room, shouldn't be witnessing such a private moment.  
"Yeah, yeah I'm alright. Sammy. Sorry about that." he says, and pats his brother on the shoulder, in what looks an awful lot like a comforting gesture.  
Where he finds the strength to be comforting, after going through something so intense, you'll never know.  
"You don't have to apologize, Dean. Not about this. Not to me. _Ever_."  
Dean nods, probably too tired to answer, and you'd expect him to get back to sleep.  
Instead, he looks at you, realizing for the first time that someone else was in the room, and you can see a flash of shame in his eyes.   
You try your best to hide any residue of emotion from your face, though it's hard when you look at the sweat on his forehead.  
"Whatever you're thinking about, don't. I don't need anyone's pity." his voice is raspy and hard, but you recognize his facade for exactly what it is: an innate instinct to refuse any kind of help, to show no emotions and no fear.  
In a matter of seconds, he's gotten up, grabbed his keys and is heading out of the room without so much as looking at you or his brother.  
You wish you'd had the time to tell him that you weren't pitying him, that the look on your face was one of admiration and respect.

As the door shuts close, Sam directs his attention to you.  
"Sorry about that, Y/N. He just... doesn't do well with others seeing he's not the emotionless asshole he acts like. He'll probably feel shitty about talking to you like that and bring you breakfast or something."   
He runs a hand through his hair, probably a nervous habit he's picked up throughout the years.  
He looks just as exhausted as his brother, when he goes to the sink and pours some coffee into a cup.   
"Is he okay? Relatively, at least." You ask.  
You could care less about one snarky comment thrown your way.  
The man looked on the edge of a breakdown, and now he's alone, driving in the middle of the night, with a vampire nest that wants you all dead on the loose.  
Sam lets out a bitter laugh, no humor to be detected whatsoever.  
"I'm not even sure what that means anymore. He won't crash the Impala into a tree or kamikaze his way through the vamp nest, though, if that's what you're referring to."

The cup's empty now, and the man just look at it like that's a personal offence because _how dare it leaving him without the one thing keeping him awake_?  
At that point, maybe for the first time, you realize the two men you're sharing a room with are not the same that saved you the first time.  
Sure, they look about the same, they drive the same car and even carry the same duffel begs, but something is different.   
The begs under their eyes, the restless look on both their faces.  
And you think it's just not fair. _None of it is._  
As you see Sam letting himself fall on Dean's bed, finally giving up on whatever he was researching, you think they don't deserve it.  
When Dean's pleads echo in your head, you want to scream at the top of your lungs just how utterly unfair it is for such good people to suffer so much.  
You don't know them all that well, have no idea what they've been through, but what you know is that the two tired men in front of you are heroes and they didn't deserve half the crap that's happened to them.

"I know it's not my place to ask, so I won't. And I know there's not much I can do at all but... if there is anything, and I mean _anything_ , I can do to to help you guys out, please let me know."   
And you know it's an empty promise, that whatever supernatural disaster and apocalyptic threat they're dealing with is so above your pay grade your offer is almost laughable, but you hope it's enough.  
You hope letting him know you _want_ to help them, even though you can't, is enough.  
When Sam smiles, a little sad, a little tired, but a smile nonetheless, you almost believe it is.  
"The less you know, the better, but I appreciate that. I really do. And Dean does as well, though it may take him a while to realize it."  
You nod in understanding, then grab Dean's coat and look for the ten dollars you put in your jeans' pocket the night before.  
Sam shoots a questioning look.  
"I am gonna go out there and get coffee. Good one, not the college kid shit you've been drinking all night. And when I get back, I really hope to see you sleeping, because God knows you need it."   
Your tone accepts no comebacks, and when you shut down his protests with a hand gesture Sam simply throws his hands in the air and lets out a small laugh.

 _Good_ \- you think - _that's good_.

\--

You get back to the room half an hour later, and to your surprise Sam is actually asleep. His feet dangle off the end of the bed, and he hugs his pillow just a little too tight for it to be just a way to be comfortable. 

Two hours later, around eight, Dean walks back into the room with two deliciously smelling beg full of breakfast food.  
He doesn't say anything, and you don't need him to.  
What happened that night looks like a distant memory when he takes a water bottle and heads towards Sam's bed with a diabolical grin on his face.  
He gestures you to shut up as he empties the water on his brother's face.  
Sam jolts awake and grubs Dean's gun from under the pillow, pointing it at the shorter man, who's now laughing and making some stupid joke about his hair.

"I'm sorry Sammy, but you were just asking for it after what you did to my Baby."  
Sam lowers the pistol, rolls his eyes and then answers.  
"I didn't _do_ anything to it, Dean, I just replaced some of the beer with food that won't kill us!"  
Unable to hold it in any longer, you start laughing too.  
"Whatever you say, _bitch_."  
Sam smiles, for real, all annoyance leaving his face in an instant.  
" _Jerk_." he shoots back, but there's no heat to it.  
Dean nods, and then starts assembling the breakfast he brought back on the small motel table.  
It takes him about five seconds to assault the bacon and eggs, while shooting a disgusted look at Sam's fruit shake,  
It's now your turn to roll your eyes, while you get the coffee and pick up a doughnut from the white box.

For half an hour, you forget about the vampires and the nightmare and your brother and everything else going wrong in your life.

For half an hour, you're just three friends enjoying breakfast together and laughing at ridiculous jokes that aren't even that funny.

For half an hour, _it feels like family._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: there's an abuse of italics in this one.

After three days of radio silence, you decide to ignore Sam and Dean's advice and go back to school.  
You already missed a couple of days, and if you want any chance at passing your next exam you _have_ to attend class.  
That doesn't mean you want to, or that the brothers agree to let you go without putting up a fight, but _oh well_.

While Professor Brady goes on and on about the details of how to handle a civil case, you can't bring yourself to care, and your mind keeps wondering back to the lore books in Sam's duffel.  
How many things are out there, that you don't know about about?  
They gave the talk you, of course - " _Pretty much everything is real. Except for Bigfoot and aliens._ " - and that scared the crap out of you.

They told you about the iron and the salt, and all your fear for needles was replaced by an urgent need to get a tattoo as soon as they mentioned demonic possessions; silver for werewolves and head chopping for vampires, and stay away from rabbit feet and wish granting coins. 

That's about as much as you know about the things that go bump in the night, and while it might have been enough once, it isn't anymore.  
You want to know more, to understand this whole side of your world you have so little knowledge about.

 _Maybe,_ if you'd known more, Chris would still be alive. 

_Maybe_ even your parents. 

_Maybe_ you'd even be able to help the Winchesters.

As your second class ends, you head to your dorm, carefully avoiding any person you might know, with the intent to at least get some of your clothes to bring to the motel.  
You stop in front of your room and take a deep breath, not sure you're ready to see Chris's things without breaking down, and then put a hand on the door handle.  
Just as you're about to go in, your phone lights up with a text. From Chris's phone.

" _Turn around_." - it says.  
But you don't. You run into your room and lock the door, frantically trying to call Sam or Dean and tell them what's going on.  
It takes eleven seconds for the door to bust open.  
You know that, because the person - _the thing_ \- that's on the other side counts.  
And that voice, _god_ , you'd know that voice anywhere.

"One." - _boom_.

Tears start streaming down tour face, your fingers are shaking when you finally, _finally_ , find the name you're looking for.

"Two." - _boom_.

Memories of your childhood fill your head, and you know that's _his_ voice but how can that _thing_ outside the door be the big brother that made you breakfast every morning because your parents were at work all the time?

"Six." - _boom_.

The door looks like it's going to give in any second and - _fucking shit_ \- where did three and four and five go?   
And why the fuck isn't the phone ringing and - _oh_ , you didn't hit call.  
Why didn't you hit call? And why is everything blurry and -

"Nine." - _boom_.

Now you know the door isn't going to hold on much longer at all, because the handle just fell off.  
And then finally you hear Dean's voice on the other hand of the phone and, _holy shit_ , that's the best sound you've ever heard.

"Eleven." 

**_Boom._ **

" _Hey sis._ "

You barely have time to scream, what you say you don't know, probably some desperate version of the brother's names.  
Right about now you wish you'd taken those self defense lessons.  
And if only you'd listened to Dean's advice and stayed in that fucking motel.

The _thing_ \- you refuse to call it your brother - is picking you up like you weight nothing, and that's when it hits you.  
The counting and taking you in his arms, all that used to be your thing. Your favorite game when you were a kid, your own incredibly sweet version of hide and sick.  
One of the fondest memories from childhood for ever ruined by the unnatural coldness of your - _of its skin_.  
He carries you out the dorm, and from that moment on is all just darkness and distorted memories. 

\--

You come to hours later, or at least you assume so, if the absence of light filtering through the broken roof is any indication of the passing of time.  
You spare a few seconds to take in your surroundings: you're in some kind of barn in the middle of nowhere - _and how fucking cliche is that_?  
Your wrist hurts, and that's when notice it's because you're tied up with some kind of old rope to a wooden column.  
_No easy way out, then._

There are a few hammocks spread throughout the enormous room, and you identify a couple of what you assume to be vampires lying on them.   
The thing that looks like your brother is further away, standing next to a table full of plastic cups and alcohol.  
There's a girl clinging to him, she looks about as out of it as you'd expect, and you suspect she doesn't really know what's going on or what kind of monster she's all over.

When she turns and you see the blood running down her neck, you think maybe she's all too aware.

A couple more minutes go by, and he finally lets the poor girl go, shoving her to the side and making his way to you.  
"Well, look who's up!" he says, so cheerful it just comes out creepy as hell.  
You don't answer, refusing to even look at him, so he grabs your face and forces you to.  
"What is it, Y/N? Ain't you gonna say hi to your big brother?".  
He's still smiling, a wide, big, cold smile that looks nothing like the warm and welcoming one that used to light up your brother's face.  
"You're _not_ my brother. He died that night." You say, finally looking him in the eyes.  
"That's where you're wrong, sis. This is all me. A better, improved" - _slap_ \- "version of me." - _slap_ again.  
Your skin burns and your lower lip is bleeding but, _damn it_ , you are not going to show him the effect he has on you. So you bite your tongue, and swallow back the tears.  
He looks at you with a hatred you never thought you'd see on his face, so deep you didn't even think it was possible. 

And yet, he's smiling. Lips curled up, and teeth out for the world to see.

You desperately look for a way to get out of the ropes, and that's when you feel the sharp piece of glass hid in the hay and miraculously within hands reach.   
_Bingo._  
You pick the glass up and try to come up with a plan, but he gets close again and you need to find a way to keep him distracted.

 _Time_. You just need time.  
Time for the Winchesters to find you, because you have no doubts they will, and time for you to cut through the _stupid fucking rope_.

"Why are you doing this?" - you try your damn hardest to sound scared and intimidated.   
And you are, _of course_ , but you're also surprisingly clear headed and focused on your mission.  
You're determined to get out of there alive, and you sure as hell refuse to die at the end of the same people that killed your _whole_ family.

"You got them killed, sis." he says, his voice low and calm, but so damn intimidating at the same time.  
"They were my family, and they're all dead because of you and those fucking Winchesters." - and now he's yelling and pacing the floor.   
Far from you, and even further away from your hands. 

_Good_.

"I was scared, at first, you know? Hell, when they broke into our house, I was terrified.  
But then they turned me, and when I came to everything made sense.   
And I was hungry. I was _so fucking hungry_ , I didn't care who I had to hurt to get what I wanted.   
I didn't care about anything anymore, and I liked that feeling.

For the first time in my life, I could just do whatever the fuck I wanted. No parents on my ass, no little whiny fucking sister to look after. Just pure, simple, incredible hunger."

He pauses for a little, looks at the other two vampires that are at his side and gestures for them to leave.

"It was perfect. Mommy dearest was first, and I can't deny it, I wasn't sure I could do it: she _was_ my family after all.  
But then they explained it to me, and it just made sense. She wasn't my family, _they were._  
All of them.  
Once I tasted her blood I knew there was no turning back. Everything was better. _I_ was better. I finished dad off in no time, and then they got you down there too and, _sis_ , I couldn't wait to taste you".  
He's close again, his hands brushing down your neck and caressing your skin.  
You shiver under his touch, letting go of the glass.   
When he places a kiss on your forehead, you spit in his face, too mad to care about consequences.   
He laughs, a humorless, empty sound, and gets up again.

"But then those sons of bitches came and took you away from me.  
_You were mine,_ it was my right, and they just took you away.  
I had to watch as they slaughtered my family, _sis_ , all because of you. And you just went on with your life? I waited for so long..."

The rope finally breaks, and his speech is cut off by the unmistakable sound of the Impala pulling up just outside the barn.  
You let out a relieved sight just as three man bust through the door, guns blazing and blades in hand.

Your brother launches towards Dean, who attacks him right back.  
Sam takes on the other two, while Cas focuses on healing the girl you saw earlier.

When he gets to you, you take it as your cue and finally let go of the rope.  
"Y/N, are you alright?" he asks, and you nod.  
"We have to get you out of here." he says in his characteristically deep voice.  
"Yeah."  
You try to get up, but dizziness washes over you as soon as you're on your feet and, _alright_ , maybe you're not as good as you hoped.

He sighs, muttering something about lying humans and becoming the president, and then places two fingers on your forehead.  
You feel better right away, finding your balance just in time to help Cas up, who doesn't look as good.

He coughs, and there's blood coming out of his nose.  
_Is that supposed to happen?_  
He cuts you out and tells you to get out before you can ask any questions, while using the wall to keep himself standing.

You run towards the back door, noticing three boys about your age tied up with chains.

You ignore them, but take a couple seconds to see Sam chopping off the head of one of the vampires, just as the other one gets the upper hand on him.

"Sammy!" - yells Dean, punching _not_ -your brotherand running towards his.   
He quickly pushes him off Sam, and pins him to a wall.  
"You fucking look at me now, _you son of a bitch_. Never touch my little brother like that."  
And then the head rolls on the floor and everything seems to stop for a second.

After that, your memories are blurry.  
You see your _brother_ picking up Sam's gun with the corner of your eye, and act without thinking. 

You pick up Sam's fallen blade and run behind your _brother_.  
Next thing you know, his head is falling on the ground and your hands are shaking as you let go of the knife.

Dean helps Sam up, and then they're both running to you in a second.  
They tell you something, but you don't really listen.

 _It wasn't your brother_ , you repeat to yourself.  
_But it looks like him._

"Ehy. Y/N. Listen to me right now. You need to believe it. It wasn't your brother" 

_But it looks like him._

_"_ I know it doesn't feel like it right now, probably never really will, but deep down you have to know it. It hadn't been him for a long time."

_It wasn't him.  
_

_But it - No, it wasn't him._

You're not sure you believe that. Not _yet_.

But then Dean's arms are around you, and the realization that he's alive because of you makes it a little easier to bear.  
"You did good, kiddo. And you saved my life."


	5. Chapter 5

Next thing you know, Dean is helping Cas up while Sam accompanies you outside.

As the fresh air hits you, you finally breath again, for the first time in a really long time.

Free of the terrible smell that dominated the barn, your lungs welcome the countryside air, and with the realization that everything is really over now a weight is lifted off your shoulders. 

Sam keeps glancing at the barn, then at you, with an uncertain smile.   
You see there's something he's not telling you, and it's clear as day he wants to go back inside.

"What's going on?" - you ask, because, _really_ , _what else now_?  
"Nothing, I just... Dean's still inside and there are other vamps" he says, as if that should make things any clearer.

But then you play the scene back in your head, the way he urged the vampire to look at him, how he didn't even flinch when the head got chopped off, and just looked satisfied.  
The glowing on his arm. The nightmare. The weird tattoo he tried to cover up and Sam kept sneaking glances at.  
"And that's bad because...?" you hope to get more out of him.  
"You really don't wanna know, Y/N. You have a real chance to make something for yourself here, don't let us mess it up for you. Just... just wait here while I go inside. Cas's gonna be here in a second and then we'll drop you off." Sam starts making his way back into the barn, but you stop him.

Drop you off?  
 _And then what_?   
Pretend nightmares aren't real?  
 _No way_.

"Sam, wait!" you run after him, and he turns around.  
"You go get Dean, but then we'll have to talk. Really, _really_ talk." he sighs, then nods, and goes in.

Just as promised, Cas stumbles out of the building a few moments later.  
Still kind of pale, but definitely better than ten minutes ago, he reaches you and smiles.  
"Are you... are you okay?" - you ask him, not exactly sure how to act around the angel.

 _A real life fucking angel_. How does one even begin to understand that?

"I have been better. But I will be okay shortly. Hopefully."   
You nod, because what else are you going to do?  
Then you notice him looking at the barn with the same expression Sam had earlier, and decide that enough is enough.

"What's wrong with Dean?" you ask, set on getting the answer you're looking for, no matter what.  
"It isn't my story to tell." he shrugs his shoulder and takes off his blood drenched trench coat.  
"But he's never going to tell it. Nor Sam. Not to me." you insist.  
"Then it's probably better for you not to know. They are usually right about this matters."

Cas starts playing with his hair, a gesture so _incredibly human_ you find it hard to believe you're looking at a celestial being. He looks exhausted and worn out, and you almost give up on interrogating him.  
  
But then you think about everything the Winchesters have done for you, and you _have_ to ask.  
"They are convinced I'll just go back to my life, Cas, but that's just not gonna happen. My world has already been turned around, what else can they possibly tell me that'll come a surprise?"  
He doesn't look at you, too busy opening the back trunk of the Impala to take away his blade.  
"You would be surprised." - he sighs.   
"Ask Dean, Y/N, and if he wants to, he'll tell you. Perhaps, it'll do him good to have someone else on his side. I think you have a right to know, but, as I said already, it is not my place to share something of that import with anyone." 

Before you have time to reply, the brothers come out of the barn.  
Sam looks relieved, even though he has blood stains all over his clothes and his hair is messy as ever; Dean looks kind of out of it, a little disoriented and just as bloody, but there's a small smile on his lips.  
Cas shoots him a questioning look, to which he answers with a nod; the angel lets out a heavy sigh, and you can't help the curiosity.

After putting guns and blades in the trunk, you all get into the car and head to the motel.  
"You can wash up at our place, and then we'll drop you off. We'll probably stay in town for the night, but we have to leave in the morning." - says Sam, after turning down the volume of the Metallica song blasting in the Impala.  
"Sure." - you answer - "Thanks."

But you don't mean it. You made up your mind hours ago: you're not going back to school, to studying law. _You just can't, not after everything._  
You can't imagine leaving the Winchesters again, or pretending you don't know what you do.

It takes you thirty minutes to arrive, apparently the son of a bitch didn't think it necessary to get out of the Stanford area.  
You all get out of the Impala and into the room, and as soon as they settle down their bags and clean the blood off their clothes, you decide to talk.  
Dean is opening a beer bottle, and Sam is looking for something in his duffel, while Cas rests on Dean's bed and flips through the channels _and for real, just how human is this angel_?

"What's going on?" - you finally ask - "And don't tell me it's better if I don't know 'cause it ain't gonna work."  
They share a look, and then Dean answers: "It really is. You don't wanna be dragged into this shit show, kiddo, you really don't."  
At this point, you're starting to get mad. You understand that they want to protect you, shield you from whatever is happening, but they can't take that choice away from you.  
You deserve to know, because when you don't know things happen, people get hurt, and _these three are about all you have left right now._

"It's not your choice to make, Dean! It really isn't."   
"You have the chance of living a normal life here, Y/N, you shouldn't mess it up. You can go on and become and a lawyer, there's no coming back from where we are --"   
"You think I'm just gonna be able to go back and graduate? Then what? Have kids, a white picket fence and a husband? That ain't happening! I'm not gonna go back to school. I'm in this now, I can't ever undo what's been done to me. _I killed my brother today_ , or what was left of him anyway. How do I just move on from that?" 

They're all looking at you, and when Dean starts to talk again, you cut him off right away.  
"I _am_ gonna get involved. Hell, I'm involved already! And I'm doing it with or without your help.   
I'm not asking you to take me in or look after me, I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself.   
But I need to know what's going and I _need_ you to let me do something about it.   
Because you guys are the closest thing I have to a family, and that's pathetic enough since I don't even know y'all that well...  
So _please_ let me in, or I'll find out my way."

"It's not pathetic, Y/N." - says Cas, from behind you.  
"These two have a way of making people care about them in a very short amount of time. And unfortunately for them, they get attached just as quickly." he offers you a smile, then turns to the brothers.  
"I know why you're so against telling her, but she's _not_ you. And you know she is not going to stop looking for answers, regardless of how much you want her to. We have seen this dozens of time."

Sam runs a hand through his hair and Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and before you get the chance of asking him what the hell Cas is talking about, the youngest starts talking.

"I used to go to school here. And I studied law, just like you. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it was less than ten years." - he's not looking at you while he speaks.

"One day, I came here and asked him help to find our dad. I dragged him back into this mess, when he'd gotten out. He was never able to leave after that." - jumps in Dean.  
Sam rolls his eyes.  
"It wasn't his fault. And he knows it."- he turns to his brother - "You _know_ it wasn't, De."  
"Bottom line is, I got back into the life and every attempt we made at getting out after that failed. No one leaves this shit behind, not fully. The only way out is death."  
"Usually." Suggests Dean, smiling.  
"Yeah, _usually_."

You won't lie, the revelation comes as a bit of a shock. Never in a million years would you have guessed Sam went to college, let alone yours.  
But now that you know, it makes sense. Why Sam looked so uncomfortable in your room, and why he's fighting so hard to prevent you from ending like him.

Except that _like him_ , seems like a pretty good way to be.

"Do you regret it?" - you ask, after collecting your thoughts for a couple seconds.

Everyone's eyes are on Sam now, and you can see Dean preparing himself for a positive answer that takes a bit too long to arrive.  
Sam sighs and looks at you in the eyes.

" _No_." - he says, finally, and you can see the surprise on Dean's face and the seriousness on Sam's.  
"I used to. God, I used to _hate it_. When Dean came to get me at school, I told myself: one more job, you know, just one last job. And then when, uh, when I - " he stops for a moment, a flash of a memory in his eyes and his voice is just a little shakier when he continues.  
"When I lost Jess I, again, told myself - just one last job. And then it was always one more job, you know, and one more job and then I was gonna go back to law and to _my life_..." - Sam lets out a small laugh, then turns to Dean.  
"But I really understand now, that _this_ is my life. And I love it. Saving people, hunting things... it took me a hell of a long time to understand it, but I belong here. _With my brother_."  
The genuine relief on Dean's face is heartbreaking, and the sincerity on Sam's just as touching.

"See, that's my point. This wasn't what you imagined, but it is what you ended up doing and you like it. It's where you oughta be. And I can say now that it is where I belong too. If I can prevent someone from going through what I have..." - you turn to Sam - "What _we_ have, I have to try."

Everyone is a silent for what feels like an hour. You prepare yourself to defend your position more, maybe even go out and buy dean some pie to _buy_ your way into his life, but then he lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

"Okay." Dean says finally, and you almost don't believe it.  
"Really? Just like that?" you ask, still unsure.  
"Yeah, you're clearly not gonna back down, and we'd rather having you hunt with us than on your own. Besides, we could use all the help we can get right now, and we like having you around, _kiddo_."   
"I have a name, you know?" you joke, allowing yourself to smile and hiding the tear that threatened to escape your eyes.  
"Not happening." he says, smiling all the same.  
"You should just give up on it, Y/N. We both have." jokes Sam - _Sammy_ \- before handing you a beer that you gladly accept.   
"We'll tell you everything tomorrow. I promise we will, but it's enough chick flick moments for one night and we're all exhausted." - states Dean.  
"Alright. I can deal with that."

\--

They keep faith to their promise. By noon the next day, you're about as caught up as you can be.  
They're light on details of past Armageddons, only giving you the gist of it, and you don't blame them one bit.

Demons, angels, Cas's fall, vessels and something called _leviathans_ that you just pretend to understand.  
Deals, misplaced trust and a lot of sacrifice. Courage, and a bond so profound between the three of them.

Purgatory, the trials, the angels falling, Abbadon.

The mark, the shame on Dean's face, what it did to him and how it still affects him to this day.  
So much loss and trauma, and so much love between them and those who left them.

You hear dozens of names, and they mention dozens of hunts.  
You don't get them all, and they don't expect you to. It's probably just rare they get to talk about it to someone other than each other.

Through all of it, the constant fight for free will and the possibility of creating their own future, throwing away the guide book and making it up as they go - because they had no choice.

You gather your things, leave the room and crawl into the Impala, headed to a mystery bunker somewhere in Kansas, that was handed to them by their _time travelling grandfather_ \- you still think they were kidding you with that one.

With Dean driving, Sam riding shotgun, and Cas and you sharing the backseat, it feels like everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be.

"Thank you." you says, as Dean hums along _Carry On My Wayward Son_.  
"For what?" he asks, curious,  
"For saving the world. And letting me help you do it again."

_Carry on my wayward son  
There'll be peace when you are done_

He doesn't answer, looks at Sam, then Cas and you; he smiles and touches the wooden amulet attached to his review mirror.  
Without a word, he just turns up the volume and pushes Baby to go a little faster.

  
_Lay your weary head to rest_   
_Don't you cry no more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks!  
> I really hope you enjoyed it.  
> I haven't written anything I deemed worth publishing in years, so I hope it's at least somewhat good enough.  
> Let me know if there are any mistakes that you can spot and any constructive criticism is more than welcome!


End file.
